squirrel
Well-known member
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2013
- Messages
- 709
It's unbelievable really what has gone on in the last 5 years on hunting for a dumb 'ol piece of bone... Dirt roads are parking lots, foot races and fist fights on the hills, animals run near to death by the CPW in choppers all winter chased even more by people out thrashing 3' of snow hoping to pick up a silly horn before the next guy. Quite a few of these from out of state no less, as if I cannot lose enough money driving 10 minutes from home and getting skunked, they come from 10+ HOURS away to get that "free money".
(They sink guys, they sink, horns are conductors not insulators)
Well if everybody was jumping off a bridge would you jump too??? I guess that is a big 10-4 as I had to go out and slog thru the mud yesterday to quell the spring fever while waiting on gobbler season.
I used to be able to tell who had been there based on the tracks in the mud (pigeon toed size 8... Donny) Yesterday there were so many of various sizes and treads it was impossible to even guess.
After about 7 fruitless miles I was closing in on the Jeep and found a true trophy, anybody can find the bigguns! And even horn hungry hordes can miss these whoppers!
At only 300 yards from the Jeep I looked over and on top of each other was this gorgeous set. Not very big (174") but scores well and very pretty.
I snuck across the fence and looked all around making sure nobody was looking and slipped them down deep in my pack for secrecy, straddled the fence and it decided to eat me, boots punctured, carharts caught in multiple spots from several angles, sliding in axle grease mud... I was going down, just had to pick a soft landing spot, right in some rocks on my back getting skewered by horns... as usual.
The dogs swung by to see why all the foul language as I tore my pants and freed myself. Being stubborn and not really very bright I tried the same spot and ended up in the exact same fashion wallowing in the mud upside down and tangled up.
Now mama didn't raise no quitter so I gave her a third try and succeeded. Torn $200 boots, ripped $40 pants, bloody leg, shredded hand leaving a blood trail, horn holes in my back... but horn rich, horn rich I say...
(They sink guys, they sink, horns are conductors not insulators)
Well if everybody was jumping off a bridge would you jump too??? I guess that is a big 10-4 as I had to go out and slog thru the mud yesterday to quell the spring fever while waiting on gobbler season.
I used to be able to tell who had been there based on the tracks in the mud (pigeon toed size 8... Donny) Yesterday there were so many of various sizes and treads it was impossible to even guess.
After about 7 fruitless miles I was closing in on the Jeep and found a true trophy, anybody can find the bigguns! And even horn hungry hordes can miss these whoppers!
At only 300 yards from the Jeep I looked over and on top of each other was this gorgeous set. Not very big (174") but scores well and very pretty.
I snuck across the fence and looked all around making sure nobody was looking and slipped them down deep in my pack for secrecy, straddled the fence and it decided to eat me, boots punctured, carharts caught in multiple spots from several angles, sliding in axle grease mud... I was going down, just had to pick a soft landing spot, right in some rocks on my back getting skewered by horns... as usual.
The dogs swung by to see why all the foul language as I tore my pants and freed myself. Being stubborn and not really very bright I tried the same spot and ended up in the exact same fashion wallowing in the mud upside down and tangled up.
Now mama didn't raise no quitter so I gave her a third try and succeeded. Torn $200 boots, ripped $40 pants, bloody leg, shredded hand leaving a blood trail, horn holes in my back... but horn rich, horn rich I say...